Hedeon Potter and the Russian Demoness
by Noxaura Cille
Summary: "Yes, you can. You see, young Hedeon was recently orphaned, and he has nowhere safe to go," Sirius stated, starting to reconsider. Maybe Japan- His uneasy thoughts were cut off by the man's grunt as he took Hedeon from him, slamming the door. Slash, Creauture!fic It's better than it sounds! (There is an OC main character) [INDEFINITE HIATUS. SEE BIO FOR MORE INFO]
1. Chapter 1

Hedeon Potter and the Russian Demoness

 _( **Important notes are in bold** )_

 _Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the base idea behind the creatures that are mentioned. This is the only disclaimer._

 _Notes: Yes, I know what you're thinking. Really, Nox? Another story? You've yet to update the others! Do not expect an update on any of my stories. I just have a LOT of free time, and my brain is always giving me plot ideas. I also have ADD, so that doesn't help any...I can't update until Friday, so..._

 ** _I am an American teenager, so I apologize for any mistakes in American to English/British spelling._**

 ** _Updates will be infrequent, but this story WILL NOT be abandoned._**

 _Iris is not the only OC, but she is the only one that will stick around._

 _Warnings: Drug usage by minors (minor), Abuse of minors (minor), Drug abuse (mentioned), Alcohol use by minors, Tobacco use by minors, Starvation, Abandonment, Gore, Torture, Violence, Slash, Fem-slash, Mpreg, and Fpreg in later chapters, Creatures, Kitsune!Iris, (She is_ _yōkai), Half-Werewolf!Harry, Cunning!Iris, Clever!Iris, Sly!Iris, Intelligent!Harry, Sly!Harry, Twin-Like!Iris/Harry, Smart!Dumbledore, Bad!Dumbledore, Annoying!Ron, Annoying!Ginny, Know-It-All!Hermione, Watchful!Snape, Cautious!Snape, Helpful!Snape, Possible OOC!Harry, Grey!Harry, Grey!Iris, Grey!Sirius, Grey!Remus, Soul Mates_

 _Relationships: Harry/Draco, Iris/Luna, Ron/Hermione, Severus/Poppy, Sirius/Remus, Ginny/Multi, Neville/Iris/Luna, Tom/Harry, Draco/Iris (Iris, Draco, Harry, Luna, Tom, and Neville are in a consensual love Hexagon in later chapters)_

 ** _Iris is pronounced ear-ISS. (Her full name is Irissa Vasilisa Volkov) Harry will be referred to as Hedeon when he is in Russia._**

 ** _Italics are Russian. I will attempt the accents when it is accented English, but I apologize for any mistakes._**

 _I think that's all._

 ** _~Nox_**

* * *

 _Prologue_

Albus Dumbledore was a kind, grandfatherly man that would willingly sacrifice himself for others without a second thought.

This is the description you would get from most. However, if you were in Magical Russia, you would get something _completely_ different. You would be told that the man was _none_ of those things. Words like 'prejudiced', 'manipulative', and 'nosy' are some of the more _generous_ adjectives that you would get. That is to say, of course, you got passed the glares and tense silence. Many people, young and old, would become stiff and silent, their faces blank. They would probably look around, searching to see if anybody heard, and then you would have to get by the Magical Militia, who would be suspicious of anybody asking about him.

The truth of the matter was that Albus Dumbledore was wanted in magical Russia, something Sirius black knew well. He had spent the previous week searching for a country exactly like this one; absolutely no chance of Dumbledore being allowed entry. While he had been searching, Remus had distracted Dumbledore. It had not been easy, but, in the end, Dumbledore was in America looking at a werewolf pack to recruit for when the Dark Lord returned.

Britain had just finished a war, all thanks to the little bundle in Sirius' hands. Of course, tom was still alive. His Horcruxes made sure of that. He was some vapour-wraith-misty-thingy now, and until they—Remus, Severus, Sirius, and a whole myriad of others—could get some of Dumbledore's blood, or find a willing demon, they were stuck with that. Thankfully, nobody on the light side of the war knew of their true allegiances, or they'd be toast. Literally. The light would put them into a dragon enclosure and lock the gate.

Sirius gazed at the orphanage apprehensively. There were a few things he knew about this orphanage, the least of which being the fact that the food was horrible. One of the reasons he chose it was because _nobody_ would look for Hedeon in such a grim place. Half of the building was indeed an orphanage, but the other half was a juvenile mental institution.

It was located in Moscow. It was a banal—as the Russian Magicals called non-magicals—Russian orphanage, which provided further cover for Hedeon. He would've chosen a less conspicuous city, like Khabarovsk or Cherepovets, but there weren't enough people to hide him. Bright, emerald-green eyes and jet-black hair are not Russian traits, so a city with a small population was out.

The orphanage was like every other orphanage he had seen, on the outside at least. There looked to be about twenty-five floors, the attic included, if all of the windows were anything to go by. The institution was on the bottom half, so the kids would have to go through there in order to get out and back in. It was a very smart way to ensure that the kids stayed where they belonged, if a little cruel. The building was made of bricks that were fading in some places, and concrete slabs squared the windows—which were made of very hard, durable glass, so the patients in the institution didn't break them—and the roof was made of slanting, grey-painted asphalt shingles. The front door was a dull red with a silver doorknob, which was chipped in places.

But the décor was not what worried him. What worried him was the orphanage's history, which was full of child abuse, starvation, and drug usage by both the kids and the adults. He truly feared for Hedeon's life and morality, but there was nothing for it. He just had to hope to Merlin and Morgana that Hedeon would make a friend some day that would help him get by.

Sirius walked up to the rust-coloured door and knocked gently, adjusting the little, silent boy on his hip, who was gazing at the orphanage wearily. A man looking no older than thirty opened the door. He had deep brown eyes and brown hair, with a roundish face. He wore a deep grey suit with a tie and all. He most certainly didn't look like he worked at an orphanage _or_ a mental institution.

" _Can I help you?"_ the man asked in fluent Russian, and Sirius was thankful for translation charms.

" _Yes, you can. You see, young Hedeon was recently orphaned, and he has nowhere safe to go,"_ Sirius stated, starting to reconsider. Maybe Japan-

His uneasy thoughts were cut off by the man's grunt as he took Hedeon from him, slamming the door.

* * *

 _Chapter One: Light in the Dark_

A young boy of about seven was sitting on the old swing set on the playground. The other children were on the wooden carousel or see-saw, laughing merrily and occasionally squealing something in Russian.

The orphanage was the same as it was six years previous when the boy had arrived there, with few exceptions. The largest exception was the playground, which was installed when he was two. The next were that the paint and materials faded even more. The building was now a coral colour. and the door was a light pink. The doorknob was even more chipped, to the point that it showed the base copper. The institution was found out and evacuated. Apparently, the Russian Militia were not happy with the age groups, which included children under thirteen—which was against the law.

Because of this, the children were allowed to go outside more often. The government even installed a new playground, making sure to leave the old one for some reason.

The boy looked up as a girl of about eight approached him.

"Allo. Vat ees Yohrr nahm?" she asked in a heavy Russian accent, obviously proud that she spoke an English phrase. He looked up, smiling slightly at her. Her hair was jet-black and long, reaching her waist, and her eyes were like molten silver, alight with glee. Her face was slightly rounded, as most Russians' were, and her nose was small with a little freckle on it. There were two freckles on her cheeks as well. Her lips were a nice crimson colour, and her teeth were pearly white and pointed slightly. Her skin was very pale, but not unhealthily so. She looked to be about 4'9''. Overall, she would be arresting when she was older.

"My nahm ees Hedeon." Then, he grew timid. The others at the orphanage thought him to be a freak and weren't afraid to voice their opinions—in more ways than vocally. She seemed to know this because she smiled slightly, and the sun glinted off of her teeth.

"My nahm ees Irrissa Vahseeleesa Vohlkohv, boot you cahn cahll meh Irris. Eef you dohn't, I veel keel you een yourr sleehp," she said, still smiling. He froze, the rickety swing going still.

" _What?"_ he exclaimed, and she rolled her eyes at him, also slipping back into Russian.

" _I said that if you do not call me Iris, I will kill you in your sleep. It is not that difficult to understand."_

Then the implications of that statement settled in, and Hedeon grinned.

"Zat meehns zat ve ahrr frrehnds. I ahm frrehnds vith Eerris!" he told her. She giggled.

"Eet vould seehm soh." Iris grabbed his hand, dragging him into the building to see Miss Ikopov, the woman whom took over after Mister Vitoliv left when Hedeon was four.

" _Miss Ikopov!"_ Iris hollerred for her favourite Matron within the orphanage. Miss Ikopov was the only one in the orphanage that didn't condone drug usage and child abuse. She was very nice to the children, and she was considered a favourite in the orphanage. She was in her late twenties, but looked no older than twenty-two, according to Iris, who may have just been flattering her to get an extra cookie. She doesn't know.

" _Yes, little Iris?"_ she asked the smart little demoness, who may actually _be_ a demoness, now that she thought about it, remembering her sister...

Iris pulled a face at the nickname, but let it slide. _For now._

" _Hedeon and I—he's my new friend—want to share a room. Can you arrange that?"_ she asked, causing Miss Ikopov to frown and close her hazel eyes.

" _If I allowed that, Iris-"_ she started, but was cut off by the aforementioned Iris.

" _Is that a new haircut? It looks absolutely astonishing on you,"_ she said. Hedeon remained silent as he looked at Miss Ikopov's hair.

No, nothing looked different. It was the same as always—long, dark brown pulled back into a tight bun. Was Iris trying to flatter the Matron?

Miss Ikopov smiled, allowing theyoung girl her wish of having her friend—her _only_ friend—in her room.

" _Oh, all right. You can share Iris' room, but-"_

She was cut off by a joyous cry from Iris that sounded oddly like the bark of a fox. The corners of her mouth twitched slightly as Iris dragged Hedeon off by the hand.

* * *

In a castle in Scotland, an old man many knew as Albus Dumbledore was tapping his fingers idly against a desk in a large, ornate, circular office with silver instruments whirring and spinning every few minutes.

Albus sighed, glancing at the portrait of the former Headmaster, Professor Phineas Nigellus Black, who was sneering at him.

"No news on Sirius' wereabouts, then?" Albus asked for the third time that week. Phineas rolled his eyes.

"For the last time, you old coot, _no._ I have absolutely _no idea_ where Sirius is." Which wasn't entirely true, but he wasn't about to say that. "And if I _did,_ I most certainly wouldn't tell you." Sirius had gained a spot in his heart when he had told him his and his mate's plan to hide Hedeon.

Phineas knew what Albus would do the moment Sirius and Remus' location—which was France—was mentioned, and he'd kill the man before he allowed that to happen.

Albus sighed, obviously fed up with him, and stood up. His robes for the day were a deep violet with polka dots that glittered when he walked and gave Phineas a migraine. He walked to the fireplace, threw some floo powder in, and stuck his head into the emerald flames, shouting out a location.

"Severus Snape, Dungeons, Private Quarters!"

His head stayed in the fire for all of a minute before be straightened up, wiping imaginary dust off of his sparkly robes.

Severus stepped out of the still-green flames gracefully not five seconds after Albus sat back down.

"What, Albus?" Severus snapped, clearly annoyed at the Headmaster.

"Now, Severus, why don't you sit down."

He grudgingly did so, but refused the offer of "sherbert lemon?"

"So, Severus, I need you to do something for me. You have the Persequor Serum, am I correct?" Albus asked after a few minutes of awkward silence.

"Yes. If you need me to track someone, state their name, age, and give me a DNA sample," Severus replied, exaggerating the requirements on purpose in order to get more information. In reality, the DNA sample was all he needed, but Albus didn't need to know that.

"Very well. Here is the DNA sample," he handed Severus a short strand of jet-black hair, "his name is Harry James Potter, and he is eleven in a week." Albus said this with a steady voice, and Severus' breath left him.

 _Hedeon? I'm tracking_ Hedeon _?_ _The Dark Lord will torture me slowly before sending me home in a matchbox! I hope Albus knows this..._

"Alright, Albus. What shall I do once he is found?" Severus asked, planting a sneer on his face for show. After all, Potter Senior was his enemy. It may be suspicious if he isn't happy to be tracking the spawn.

"Bring him to me. Here is a portkey, it will go off five minutes after you make contact with young Harrison."

As Severus stood up to leave, Albus said one last thing that almost froze him.

"Oh, and Severus, he is probably more like you than you think. Do be kinder, and do not blame the son for the actions of the father."

He left as fast as he could without looking suspicious.

* * *

To say Iris was surprised when a bat-like man in black robes appeared in her room while she was changing into her nightdress would be a vast understatement.

" _AH HEDEON! THERE IS A VAMPIRE IN OUR ROOM!"_ the eleven-year-old screamed, dropping the hem of the nightdress, which was a deep black and made of what looked like satin. It had long sleeves and lacy hems and cuffs. When she dropped it, it fell to her ankles. She wore black socks on her feet.

" _No, Iris. He is not a vampire,"_ Hedeon replied, coming into the room in emerald pajama bottoms. He had a bruise on his right rib, but otherwise, the skin was unmarred. He was about 5'2'' now, having grown over the four years that he had known Iris, who snuck food from the kitchens. His skin was pale since he never went out, and his hair wasn't as messy as it used to be.

The walls were a dark blue and the floor was carpeted with pure white carpet. In the centre of two cream-sheeted beds was a Pentagram in what _looked_ like black carpet. There was a wardrobe—made of mahogany wood—against the wall by the door, and the doorknob was golden.

Severus groaned when he heard the fluent Russian the boy spoke in.

"Do either of you speak English?" he asked, looking at Hedeon.

He was surprised when the girl spoke in English. It was heavily-accented, but English all the same.

"Yehs. Ee speekh Eengleesh," Iris, ever the faithful friend, stepped in. She had a feeling she could trust this man, and her feelings were _always_ correct.

"Excellent," Severus said, sensing the magic coming from the girl. He looked to the portkey and gasped. It would leave if they did not move quickly. "This is a portkey. It will take us to another place."

"Keend ohv leek zah fahrry tahls ee oosehd toh rrehd." Severus nodded at the young girl, who stepped back.

"What is wrong? I am on a very tight schedule."

"Een ze fahrry tahls, ze cheeldrreen ahr keeld." Iris handed him a book labled _"_ _Бутылка_ _"_. "Eet ees cahlld "Ze Bohttl" een Eengleesh."

The cover was just plain forest green with the title in silver.

Severus set the book down because it gave him chills.

"Vell, ahr ve goheeng ahneevehrre?" Hedeon asked, speaking for the first time since he entered the room. At this, Iris put on a pair of black flats. Hedeon was already wearing his shoes.

"Of course. You may want to put on a shirt, however." Hedeon pulled on a black T-shirt and touched the portkey. He grabbed Iris' hand, who glared at him.

"Ee ahm ze ohnly von zat cahn drrahg you."

They were whisked away with an uncomfortable feeling of tugging behind the naval.


	2. Chapter 2

_Notes From the Authoress: I do not usually ask for reviews, but I never get any. I would truly be grateful if someone took at least thirty seconds out of their day to tell me what they think. Reviews are my motivator, and without them, I lose faith in myself._

 _I will try to update at least once a week, but school may get in the way._

 _I try to do accents, but it isn't easy because I don't always look at the chart. I think I do a pretty good job, but that's just my personal opinion._

 _Chapters will be long, ranging from 1000 to 2500 words. I will not exceed that number unless I say otherwise. I do not have all day to type out a story. Sorry._

 _The points of view will sometimes shift with the statement. Iris and Hedeon are like twins. Their povs are combined, kind of. You'll know when you read it._

 _The acceptance letter is the same, just change the location to the Headmaster's Office._

 _ALSO, I, being overly mature for my age, do not portray children very well, as you know from the last chapter._

 _Unbeta's, for now. I blame my impatience._

 _Bye!_

 _ **OWTS**_

 _ **~Nox**_

* * *

Iris' first impression of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was that it made her think of a Medieval castle. The towers, which she could see through a window, were just right to fit the ones described in her books. She wondered where the castle was, and if a king lived in it.

The walls were made of a dark, smooth stone that was stacked like the bricks in the orphanage. The ceiling was a sleek and smooth stone that most likely doubled as a floor for an upper level. There were several lit torches on the wall, and there were a lot of paintings—moving, as most art in the Magical World did—that were hanging on the walls.

"Vhehrr ze hehll ahrre ve?" she asked the bat-man. He looked at her sharply when she said 'hell'.

"This," he started, looking at her disapprovingly, "is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You will find out more later."

Iris did not look happy about this, but she let it go. The bat-man turned a sneer upon her before marching in the direction of an ugly stone gargoyle that looked like it would prefer to be doing anything but sitting in front of a blank bit of wall.

"Cockroach Cluster," bat-man spoke the password, causing Iris to giggle. He looked at her and she glared defiantly back. Looking unnerved, despite his emotions usually being hidden behind strong occlumency shields, by the way her unnatural silver eyes shone with an inhuman, sinister intelligence, he turned back to the gargoyle, whom Iris had taken to glaring at.

"Mahgheek ees rrehl?" Hedeon asked, and Iris looked quizzically at Bat-man, awaiting an answer that never came.

* * *

The man in front of Iris—Albus Dumbledore, according to Bat-man—looked most displeased at her presence, if the glower on his face were anything to go by.

"Who are you, dear girl?" he inquired as he turned to face her, vexation struggling to break loose from the serene, grandfatherly restraints tightening desperately in an endeavour to hold it back.

Iris decided she didn't like this man, thus she was going to mess with him a bit. She looked at him, face vacuous, but her eyes glistened mischievously as she spoke.

" _My name is Irissa Vasilisa Volkov, not 'dear girl', Bumblebee,"_ she said in rapid Russian.

The newly-dubbed "Bumblebee" only looked at her in confusion before turning to Bat-man.

"Severus!" he exclaimed in diluted merriness, "I see you found the boy."

Iris tuned them out, but not before taking hold of her friend's hand, just in case things went south.

The office was round and very beautiful, in Iris' limited opinion. There were silver instruments whirring and emitting puffs of smoke every now and then, and there was a large, red-and-gold bird that looked a bit like a peacock with its feathers all closed up on a golden perch behind the door. Its feathers shimmered slightly in the dim lighting of the office. Along most of the walls, bookcases full of books and tomes that looked at least two hundred years old stood tall and proud. There was a dirty, torn, old-looking, battered hat behind the desk, and the fireplace crackled merrily with a bright flame.

The most remarkable part of the office, however, was the owner himself.

He wore robes, and, if that wasn't already odd, they were purple with sparkling, headache-inducing stripes. His beard, which was pure white, was so long that it could probably be used as a belt and his hair, which was also white, appeared to be attached to the beard. He had a bunch of wrinkles, and his blue eyes twinkled like a star at midnight. He exuded an aura of kindness, peace, and calm, but Iris could sense the heaviness of it, and such heavy emotions weren't natural.

She didn't trust him.

Iris tuned back into the conversation when she heard her name hissed by Hedeon.

"The girl has a magical aura, so I brought her along," Severus was saying. Iris frowned slightly, but didn't interrupt. "Potter doesn't seem to know of the existence of magic, so I told them where they were. The girl confuses me, however. Her aura is not that of a witch, but she survived the apparition."

Bumblebee looked back at her, then, a contemplative look in his eyes as he did so.

"Very well, we will accommodate her. Now," he continued, addressing both Hedeon and Iris, "I shall tell you of magic."

Hedeon looked at the man like he was crazy—which, Iris mused, could be the case—, but didn't interrupt him. Instead, he adopted a look of complete innocence, but Iris did no such thing. She crossed her arms over her chest—which was starting to expand to fit the twelve year-old's age—and leaned to the side. Hedeon moved closer to her, as she had dropped his hand when she did so.

"Magic has been around since the beginning of time, but only when man walked the earth was it used. Today, magic is used for any number of things, like transfiguration, cures, conjuration, invisibility, heat, lighting, and so much more. In the Wizarding World, magic is the very air we breathe, and without it, we would not survive.

Magic users are called Witches and Wizards, and when they turn eleven, they get a letter inviting them to a magical school," here, he handed them both a letter addressed to them, with their current location on the front underneath their names, "that school is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where students stay from September until June and learn how to use and control their magic.

You will, of course, have to visit Diagon Alley to get your supplies, but Severus shall take you, so you should be fine. Have a good day, Mister Potter, Miss..."

Iris rolled her eyes, deciding to speak English, butchered though it may be, to shut him up.

"Vohlkohv. Eerrissah Vahseeleesah Vohlkov."

"Miss Volkov."

It was not Bumblebee that said it, and Iris was surprised when he spoke.

"Yehs, Meestehrr Baht-mahn?" she asked the man, and he scowled briefly at the name.

"You may call me Professor, or Professor Snape from now on." She nodded, and he continued. "Follow me, Potter, Volkov."

Hedeon looked rather hesitant to do so, so Iris grabbed his hand and yanked him out the door. Professor Snape followed them, and the door closed behind them with a defining _'click'_.

* * *

Severus Snape was not happy with Albus Dumbledore.

The Headmaster had told the brats that _he_ would be taking them to Diagon Alley, without asking for Severus' opinion. So here he was, on the cobblestone street, with two brats that stared, wide-eyed, at the Alley. The early afternoon hustle and bustle of witches and wizards in the Alley for lunch or shopping provided a nice cover as he herded the two into Gringotts, the doors closing and cutting off the shouts of outrageous prices on dragon skin and broomsticks.

The goblins at the long, high counter ignored them as they walked by, so engrossed in their counting, weighing, checking, and scribbling were they that only a few even noticed their presence. Severus walked up to one of the counters.

"I have brought Harry Potter to visit his vault," he told the sneering goblin as he handed over a small, golden key.

The goblin didn't answer, opting instead to check the key with a large magnifying glass before nodding.

"Griphook!" the goblin called out as he put the magnifying glass away. Griphook, another goblin, came out of one of the doors. His eyes snapped to Iris before settling on Hedeon.

"Follow me."

Iris chose this moment to speak up, "Grreephook, sihrr, doh ah hahv vahlt?" she asked—rather politely, in Severus' opinion—, and Griphook stopped and looked at her closely.

"Perhaps," he said, and continued walking. Severus saw Hedeon lean close to Irissa, and whisper something in her ear that lit up her face. He looked at them curiously as the goblin lead them to a cart.

He let the brats get in first before sliding onto the seat and holding onto the side of the door as it closed and the cart moved forward quickly. He shut his eyes against the wind and prayed to Merlin that the ride would be over soon.

When it was over, he got out, the children following. Iris took Hedeon's hand and led him to the goblin as the large door opened, revealing what looked to be millions of piles of gold, silver, and bronze.

* * *

 _Next chapter: Shopping, wands, train rides, and a sorting to remember_


End file.
